Common Sense, Part VII: Realpolitik, contd.

Section three of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, overall an exhaustive and at-times vitriolic compendium of all that was wrong with the existing (circa 1776) relationship between the Thirteen Colonies and the British Crown, combined with a brutally frank assessment of the prospects for reconciliation, concluded with some of the author’s thoughts on the viability of independence and what form he believed it might take. Again (stone me if you must) I feel the need to point out how capably Paine managed to harness simple observations and how well he seemed to understand what the average American colonist took for granted. Lacking the grounding in philosophy and history, the familiarity with classical Latin or Greek literature, or the fluency in abstractions that many of the luminaries of the Founding Generation possessed, most Americans lived in a world defined by pounds and pence, weights and measures, miles and acres, and, often, life and death. They were certainly not, as a group, unintelligent. The sense of worth they attached to this or that idea or concept, however, tended to be shaped by considerations of practicality over principle, if for no other reason than they had far more to lose than a classically educated and independently wealthy lawyer or plantation owner. Thus while independence may have appealed to many colonists, particularly when coupled with denunciations of the legitimacy of monarchical rule and recollections of the harm the colonies had suffered at the hands of the Crown, few would have agreed to hazard their all in its pursuit without some kind of assurance as to what its long-term result might be.

Paine understood how important it was to provide his readers with some sense of that it was either possible or necessary for the colonies to govern themselves at all. The latter he attempted to impress in paragraph forty of section three. The colonies, he argued, had seen to their respective affairs quite handily in light of the disruption brought about by the burgeoning Revolutionary War. In fact they had, he wrote, “manifested such a spirit of good order and obedience to continental government, as is sufficient to make every reasonable person easy and happy on that head.” To his credit the colonies had indeed, via the Second Continental Congress, managed to coordinate efforts to make known their grievances to Britain, seen to the formation and provisioning of a Continental Army, commissioned officers to command the same, assigned ambassadors to postings in Europe, established new trade policies, and begun the process of borrowing and printing the funds necessary to continue the armed conflict in which they found themselves entangled. Things were perhaps not as harmonious as Paine made them out to be, between regular squabbles in Congress and the refusal of certain colonies to lend money to the war effort, but the wheels of government in colonial America certainly continued to turn. What he did not make clear, however, is that the Thirteen Colonies were perhaps particularly well-equipped for self-government, and that the nature of how the Continental Congress functioned likely exaggerated any sense of consensus colonists in early 1776 might have perceived.

As mentioned in weeks past, the way many of the colonies came into being, as corporations, proprietary land grants or private enterprises, coupled with the sheer physical distance between them and Britain, ensured that a significant degree of functional autonomy was always an integral part of their makeup. The Crown formally appointed all of the colonial governors, save those of Pennsylvania, Maryland and Delaware, and said governors in turn appointed members of the respective colonial councils (legislative upper house) and courts. Most of the day to day administration and legislation, however, was carried out by the various elected colonial assemblies. This ensured that in matters of war, trade, and diplomacy the Crown, as represented by the governor, possessed the final say, while the colonists saw to their domestic affairs according to their own needs and based on their own timetable. Removing the governors, councils and courts from the equation certainly would have had a long-term effect, but in the interim it’s unlikely that the average colonist would have noticed the difference. Indeed, once a break with Britain began to look as though it was inevitable colonists critical of the Crown from Massachusetts to Georgia began to organize themselves into a variety of so-called “Provincial Congresses.” These ad-hoc bodies gradually came to displace the established colonial governments while still exercising most of the same powers traditionally held by the latter. This process of government formation doubtless succeeded, at least in part, because late-18^th century Americans were already accustomed to self-government. They were, many of them, experienced legislators, lawyers, merchants and financiers, and between them possessed the lion’s share of the knowledge required to successfully cast off British oversight. This, I think, Paine knew very well, and was right to point out to his fellow colonists in the spirit of reassurance and congratulations.

The foreign policy, trade, and diplomatic responsibilities formerly exercised by the Crown through various colonial offices meanwhile came to fall under the purview of the Continental Congress. While it was certainly not said body’s intended function, between 1774 and the early 1780s it gradually came to accumulate various duties in the name of overseeing the war effort and coordinating between the states. In this sense Congress became an effective stand-in for the Crown, as the theoretical highest-level legislative body whose decision-making power in certain policy areas all of the respective states (formerly colonies) recognized. Where Congress differed, however, was in its manifest inability to enforce really any of the measures it passed or collect on the requisitions it handed down to the states. Rather than a formal executive, or indeed a national legislature like the modern United States Congress, the Continental Congress was more akin to a high-level deliberative body. It functioned as a forum for debate among representatives of the colonies/states, was responsible for coordinating military and financial logistics, and helped present the image of a united front in terms of diplomacy and trade. None of the states, however, were really bound by its rulings. It was, for all intents and purposes, a voluntary body. This is not to say that the Congress was ineffectual, or that it failed to accomplish anything of note during its tenure (1775-1789). Rather, it’s simply important to understand that if Congress ever was effective it was because the states allowed it – nay, wished it – to be.

Thus, Paine’s praise of the harmonious condition of “continental government” in January, 1776 should perhaps be understood less as a tribute to the willingness of the states to cooperate, or the effectiveness of Congress, than as an acknowledgement of how lightly the authority of the nascent United States government was then felt. The Continental Congress served to provide a mechanism by which the various provisional revolutionary governments could discuss and form a consensus on this or that policy or strategy. There were few serious conflicts between Congress and the colonies/states because Congress had no mandate of its own to enforce. Paine’s attempt to praise the lack of disagreement between a purely voluntary body and its various members would thus seem to ring a little hollow. Or at least to me it does, gifted with hindsight as I am. What’s important to remember, though, is that in spite of how capable Americans in the 1770s already were of governing themselves in the everyday, administrative sense, and how little Congress demanded of the colonies/states, the belief that a break with Britain and the prospect of independence represented a metaphorical “leap in the dark” was almost certainly a common one. In attempting to convince his fellow colonists to take the plunge anyway, Paine no doubt felt it best to reassure them of how capable they were rather than how illusory their success might have been. While it no doubt would have come naturally to some of his revolutionary compatriots to attempt abstract reasoning or wander down some mazy avenue of Enlightenment philosophy in order to accomplish this, Paine instead attempted this act of reassurance simply by pointing to the state of government in the Thirteen Colonies as of early 1776. Taxes were being collected, ordinances were being passed, law and order had yet to totally collapse (away from the frontlines, anyway), and the war effort was being conducted with relative efficiency. What more effective advertisement for the viability of independence could there be? 

           

In asking Americans to potentially risk their lives and livelihoods, however, Paine knew that assurances of the viability of independence would not be enough. After all, simply because a thing is possible is no endorsement for it being necessary, or even desirable. No, if Common Sense was to move people to action it would need to make it plain that independence was not just an option, but the option. This Paine attempted in paragraphs thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine and fifty-one of section three. The arguments contained therein concerned the tenuous political and economic state that a settlement with Britain and a return to the status quo would leave the colonies in, the consequent likelihood of civil unrest occurring as a result of lingering discontent, and the chaos that might result from further rebellions of a less organized, less principled nature than that which Americans were presently engaged in.

What I’ll call the first and second of these linked concerns were addressed in paragraphs thirty-seven, thirty-eight, and thirty-nine. Even a negotiated peace, Paine asserted therein, arrived at on the best possible terms for the aggrieved colonists could never hope to be anything more than a temporary postponement of what he believed to be a fundamentally irreconcilable conflict between the ambition of the colonies and the authority of the British Crown. What was best for the colonies, essentially, was not what was best for the empire. Consequently, a settlement of the conflict begun in April, 1775 at Lexington and Concord that once more placed the colonies under the authority of the Crown could only result in the emergence a state of distinct tension observable both from within and without. Protests against British trade and tax policies, already the cause of demonstrations in the 1760s and 1770s, would inevitably continue, met as before with harsh discipline and resulting in further recrimination on either side. “Emigrants of property,” as Paine referred to them in paragraph thirty-seven, would be disinclined to make their home in colonies whose political status remained distinctly disturbed, and take their wealth and expertise elsewhere. Just so could those present inhabitants who felt threatened by the uncertainty of American affairs choose to depart, further draining away the few material and demographic resources the colonies possessed. In such a state of despair, economic stagnation, and political instability, Paine asked his readers, was not further revolt a distinct possibility? And if that was the case, if further civil conflict and all the destruction of life and property it entailed was unavoidable under continued British rule, what was the purpose of submission? If Britain could not guarantee peace in realms nominally under its control, what purpose did being a part of its empire serve? Independence, Paine declared, was the only real option. It may not have been the answer to every problem Americans were likely to face, but it was perhaps the only permanent solution to the seemingly-intractable conflict between the colonies and the Crown.

This thread was picked up again in paragraph fifty-one of section three. Suppose, Paine postulated, that a settlement was reached between Britain and the colonies that once more placed them under the authority of the Crown. As aforementioned it was his opinion that such an outcome would be ultimately disastrous, but there were doubtless a sizeable enough percentage of colonists who still at least tacitly supported Britain in January, 1776 for him to admit that it was a distinct possibility. Under the terms of such a settlement, Paine continued, the colonies would once more be bound by British authority. Though in the immediate certain grievances might be laid to rest with the repeal of this or that piece of legislation, he seemed to doubt that the underlying philosophical, moral or logical complaints which had animated many of the revolutionaries and their supporters would simply vanish. In such a condition, with American political and economic life rendered unto a state of misery, and with the continued presence of discontent and bitterness among not-insignificant portions of the population, how long would it take for, “some desperate adventurer to try his fortune; and in such a case, what relief can Britain give?” As he had discussed already in paragraphs thirty-eight and thirty-nine, Paine was doubtful of the ability of Britain to adequately secure the peace in the Thirteen Colonies in the event of a further revolt. Should a second revolution come and British aid be too late in arriving, he prophesied, “the fatal business might be done; and ourselves suffering like the wretched Britons under the oppression of the Conqueror.”

What worried Paine, as much as the instability that would reign in America if British authority was reinstated it seemed, was the potential for a far less principled rebellion to occur over which he and his compatriots could exert no guiding influence. Paine feared the emergence of a “backwoods Caesar” whose ability to foment popular discontent and harness it in aide of their desire for power would surely bring about a tyranny ten times worse than that suffered under the Crown. While the example Paine deployed in support of this assertion might now be considered somewhat obscure, that of 17^th-century Italian fisherman-revolutionary Masaniello, the scenario he imagined is well-rooted in ancient and modern history. From Julius Caesar to Napoleon Bonaparte, charismatic demagogues have often enjoyed stunning success when attempting to direct the anger of an embittered population in order to seize the reins of power for themselves. Such an agitator, he suggested,

May hereafter arise, who laying hold of popular disquietudes, may collect together the desperate and discontented, and by assuming to themselves the powers of government, may sweep away the liberties of the continent like a deluge. 

That he imagined something of that description could take place in America is far from irrational, particularly if under a negotiated settlement with Britain informal bodies like the Committees of Correspondence or the Continental Congress were disallowed. Without such entities to channel popular anger into structured debate and organized resistance it would seem possible, if not likely, that un-checked mob violence could very easily be manipulated by a canny individual or group whose intentions were far from noble. This, Paine declared, was why the present revolution needed to be seized upon; “it is infinitely wiser and safer,” he wrote, “to form a constitution of our own in a cool deliberate manner, while we have it in our power, than to trust such an interesting event to time and chance.” Though he would have preferred American independence to have developed gradually and with a minimum of bloodshed, the present conflict presented the colonists with an unparalleled opportunity. Their governments were being capably administered, Congress was overseeing the war effort with commendable efficiency, and the leadership of the Continental Army rested in the hands of men of proven character and ability. There could be, Paine endeavoured to impart to his audience, no better chance to achieve independence on terms favorable to American sensibilities.

            What is, again (again, again) worth taking note of about this particular argument is how Paine seemed not to address the prospect in independence in terms of its inherent moral or philosophical value. Jefferson, in his much-remembered Declaration of Independence of July, 1776, depicted separation from Great Britain as the answer to a series of infractions committed by the Crown that had gone unpunished, as well as a remedy to tyrannical government well-attested to by history and contemporary thought concerning natural law and natural rights. While certain of his more moderate contemporaries – John Dickenson of Pennsylvania, for example – might not have endorsed independence with as much gusto, they too tended to characterize the grievances between Britain and the colonies as chiefly involving concepts like justice, liberty, and the unspoken social contract. I have no doubt that Paine agreed with these men in large part, Jefferson in particular, but the claims he put forward in Common Sense in an attempt to gather the general colonial population into the pro-independence camp followed a very different line of reasoning.

Rather than endorse separation from Britain because he believed it to be a moral imperative, Paine spoke in terms of probabilities. If the Thirteen Colonies remained under British control, he declared, even a particularly favourable political settlement would do nothing to address the fundamental differences between them. That being the case, another rebellion was all but inevitable. Lacking strong, principled leadership such as that provided by the Continental Congress, what would prevent such a rebellion from becoming the plaything of the charismatic and unprincipled? This was doubtless seen as a compelling argument because of its immediacy; rather than declare to his fellow colonists, “We must seek independence because certain philosophical principles with which you are more than likely unfamiliar demand it,” Paine instead argued, “We must seek independence because if we don’t bad things will happen.” As effective in the hands of an 18^th-century pamphleteer as in those of a contemporary network-television polemicist, this kind of fear-mongering no doubt spoke to the average, business-minded, risk-averse American colonist in a very powerful way. The genius of Paine’s Common Sense, therefore, stems not just from the way it tapped into the desires or assumptions of its audience, but in how it tweaked their anxieties as well.